


Do As My Lady Commands

by MissEmmanuelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom!Sansa, Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Queen Sansa, Torture, Violence, a little ooc, fierce Queen does not give a fuck anymore, sub!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/pseuds/MissEmmanuelle
Summary: The Great War is over. House Stark lives on in Sansa Stark and the North is proud to crown her their new Queen after a successful secesssion from the Throne to form their own independent kingdom. Queen Sansa is determined to begin a new legacy in honour of her brother Robb. But without progeny, her legacy is threatened. Unless she finds a way, no matter what it takes.





	Do As My Lady Commands

**Author's Note:**

> Anon ask for jonsa-creatives on Tumblr.  
> Anonymous asked:
> 
> I loved that Dom! Jon post that was posted for another, and I've got my own Prompt! Dom!Sansa, is upset with Jon Targaryen (publicly revealed), when he returns home. He is to never leave the north without His Queen's permission, and she wants his children. Thanks!
> 
> This was weird fill for me to do, mainly because it's OOC for Sansa and Jon I guess. Sansa is so sweet and kind who wouldn't hurt a fly (unless you're Ramsay) so this was a big stretch.  
> Anyway.. enjoy!
> 
> Elle xxx (jonsaforlife/jonsa-creatives on Tumblr - come and say hi!)

“Your Grace! The gates!”

Sansa hurried to the entrance as escorted by her guards. Archers, aiming at the intruder if he proved to be one, ever ready to protect their newly crowned Queen in the North.

The chains rattled as the heavy gates opened and Sansa watched as a familiar figure all wrapped in furs sat tiredly on a horse. Sansa continued her gaze as the horse trotted in, knowingly, as if it was returning home. As Sansa approached nearer as the mare stopped, the figure fell onto the snowy grounds at her feet before she could greet him. The furs told her it could be some lost wildling, seeking rest and refuge from the harsh winter, but the head of jet black curls told her otherwise.

An audible collective gasp could be heard as the figure turned and laid on his back, panting and face streaked with dirt and caked blood.  _Jon.._

“Your Grace… What shall we do-”

“Close the gates and fetch the Maester. Nobody enters unless on official business. Not a word goes beyond the gates about this. Take him inside,” Sansa ordered, her voice loud enough for all present to hear. 

_Jon. No longer the Jon I know, now._

Jon opened his eyes and squinted as they adjusted to the dimly lit room. It seemed familiar, the scent of lavender and roses filled his nostrils as he took in a deep breath. He could feel his feet touching the floor but his hands… his hands were tied above him. Jon moved his hands but the steel cuffs only clinked in response. Everything around him smelled and looked familiar but why was he being held captive? In his own home, right here in Winterfell? 

The thought made him angry and Jon struggled to break free of his restraints.

“Stop moving. They will only cause more pain if you do,” a husky yet sweet voice greeted him from the shadows.  _Sansa.._

“Sansa? Is that you? Oh good.. would you please untie me? Why am I here?”

Jon heard a ruffling of clothes and slow footsteps as a tall slender figure emerged to greet him. Sansa was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her copper locks shone in the candlelight and her blue eyes stood out fiercely as they met his.

“You’re here on my orders. Not the least bit of what the Northern lords think you deserve. But I am kinder than most and this is after all, my home. I will do as how I see fit. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you Jon? Or are you Jon Snow even?”

“Sansa… I don’t understand… Yes, I am Jon. Your brother! We took back Winterfell from the Boltons.. You came with the Knights of the Vale.. I am Jon, Sansa!”

Sansa smirked and for a moment, Jon remembered the sweet and kind Sansa he recognized. He watched helplessly as Sansa walked away from him to retrieve a scroll that sat on a table nearby. Sansa opened it and read out loud as Jon’s eyes widened in horror.

_**“Lady Sansa, it is with great sorrow that this message comes bearing the news of your half brother Jon Snow. He was seen last with Queen Daenaerys Targaryen, in a battle against the Undead. It is not known if he is still alive. But I must tell you now, that the dragon queen is dead with her dragons and the battle was won. My Lady, it is my duty to tell you that Jon Snow, the King in the North had sworn fealty to Daenaerys in exchange for protection and a military alliance. And my Lady, you must know that Jon Snow is not who you think he is. He is a Targaryen. Your cousin, borne of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. He stands to inherit rule of the Seven Kingdoms including the North. Him bending the knee was all a ruse. Be careful, my Lady, I know the North is your home and it is rightfully yours to protect. You are the rightful Queen in the North and Jon shall not be named King any longer.”** _

Jon’s heart ached as every word Sansa read cut through him like a knife. Sansa must know that he would bleed for the North, that no matter what, he would always be a Stark.

“Sansa.. Please.. That person who wrote that to you just wants you to hate me-”

“Is this true? That you swore fealty to her? And that she’s your aunt?”

“Sansa.. I didn’t know then. Until I received news from Tyrion when we talked about succ-”

“So it is true.. You’re not a Stark. You never were,” Sansa said quietly as she shook her head at him in disbelief. 

“No! Sansa please! I would die for the North! It’s a part of me-”

Jon’s cheek burned as Sansa interrupted him with a sharp slap across his face.

“Don’t you talk about the North as if it meant anything to you! My father lied for you! Robb died to protect the North! And you… You gave it up in hopes for what exactly? You betrayed me and you betrayed the North!”

Tears stung his eyes and Jon hung his head low in shame. Yes, it was a betrayal and now, it wasn’t even his to give away in the first place. Winterfell had always belonged to Sansa. He never wanted to be King.

“I never wanted to be King. You know that, Sansa.. the White Walkers were coming for us and we were all going to die. I needed as much help as I could get, Sansa.”

Sansa scoffed at his weak admission. “That will always be your reason wouldn’t it? There was no news of you and we were all tired of waiting around for you. I had to hold down the fort and rule for you!” 

Jon looked up to meet her stare and there was nothing he could say to make it better. What was done had come to pass, at least there was no danger of the Undead coming for any of them now. All Jon wanted was to return home. Or at least the home he once knew.

“Aye Sansa, you were born to rule. They chose well.”

Sansa turned away from him as she placed the scroll down back on the table.

“This room.. Do you know what this room was?” 

Jon looked around him. It was bare and unkempt, save for a rickety old bed and a worn mattress on top of it. It was nothing to speak of really except Jon looked out of the slightly open window and saw only the horizon and snow capped valleys. He was high above the grounds of Winterfell.  _The tower…_

“He kept me here, while I was his wife. He beat me, used me, raped me and did whatever he wanted with me. No one came to help, no matter how hard I screamed. No one heard me. No one dared.”

“Sansa, please… don’t.”

Sansa held a flogger in her hand and stroked its tails gently. It did not go unnoticed by Jon the small sharp stones that were attached to each and every tail. Sansa pulled a string that held together the cloak Jon was wearing. He did not even notice he was bare naked underneath. A sudden chill went up his spine and goosebumps pimpled his skin. The thin makeshift cloak fell to floor at his feet.

“The Northern lords elected to have you thrown in prison for betraying the North. They wanted to see you hanged for pretending to be a Stark, as Ned Stark’s bastard. They wanted you dead, mostly, for being a Targaryen. A traitor for bending the knee to your aunt. You gave away the North like it was nothing! My home!"

Sansa paused and lowered her voice as she drew nearer. "But do you know why you’re here instead?”

Jon shuddered and felt his voice leave him. He could only shake his head.

“Me. They listened to me. I asked them to spare your life… on the account of taking back Winterfell back from the Boltons. Do you still remember that?”

“Sansa.. I-”

_THWACK!_

Jon grunted as the flogger lashed across his back. 

“Of course you do. I watched as you ran back to WInterfell foolishly, when the Knights of the Vale came and took over for you. I have to stop wondering why I am always here to save you when you can’t save yourself.”

_THWACK! THWACK!_

The pain seared past through his skin and Jon felt it in his bones. His weakened state could only slump against his restraints and Jon saw the rest fade to black.

* * *

A moan escaped his lips as he felt the world move around him, albeit in a rhythmic fashion. Sharp pain that attacked his back made him wince, but alas, could not fight against the pleasure he felt on his cock, enveloped in warm wet flesh. A soft whimper drifted into his ears and it sounded like a symphony to him. He fought hard to open his eyes but he was drifting in and out of consciousness to barely register what was happening.

The whimpers slowly became moans and the voice seemed so familiar to him. He stretched out his hands to touch but again felt the leather cuffs rub against his wrists. He was lying down this time with his hands tied above him. There was nothing more he yearned for than to feel the soft skin that rubbed against his every time their bodies met. 

“Jon.. unhh… I’m so close.. unhhh..”

“Sansa…oh gods.. Sansa..” Jon called out, his heart and mind hoping and wishing he was right. Whoever it was sounded and smelled too much like her. But felt divine. The way her walls clung tighly onto his cock and clenched, made him howl like the half wolf he was.

“Ahh… yes stay there! Right there.. Ahh!” the soft voice continued and Jon only pushed his cock further and harder up, jabbing into the warm wet hole that welcomed him so fervently. A sudden contraction and spasming came over his cock and milked him as Jon felt his peak wash over his entire being, spilling his seed deep inside - whoever it was that was sprawled on top of him. 

Jon panted and for a brief moment that he opened his eyes, he caught a flash of red hair and blue eyes staring straight at him as he felt his hands being released from the cuffs. The lavender and rose scent was unmistakably Sansa. Could he be wrong? Sansa would never go near him, after all that had happened. But the drowsiness took over and and Jon drifted back to his slumber once more. 

* * *

“So, my Lord, what do you have to say for yourself?” Lord Royce stood facing him, his face full of disapproval. A loud mumble was heard around the hall as the Northern lords grunted their agreement. Jon smiled in spite of his predicament.  _Some things never change._

“My Lords, I know that I’m standing here waiting for my punishment for treason but if I have to die, then let me die as a Stark. It is my final wish and it is my hope that you will honour it.”

Lord Royce and the rest of the lords looked at each other questioningly and turned back to him. Jon wondered what more it could be now. He had been held as prisoner, locked in a tiny cold room in the tower for months, under the orders of Queen Sansa. It was safe to say he was treated rather well, despite the flogging and whipping that came from the Queen herself. Though Jon often looked forward to the drowsy coupling that came after; the drink he was given had milk of the poppy, lulled him into a sweet unconsciousness,  as it soothed the pain. It  was prescribed by the Maester - but it wasn’t strong enough to stop his cock from doing whatever the mysterious mistress wanted. 

Whoever she was, she was the woman of his dreams. Quite literally. Perhaps he may never find out nor know her name. It was his day of judgement and he was ready to face death a second time. And he hoped it was his last.

“Death? Do you think you were going to be let off so easily? After what you’ve done?” Sansa’s commanding voice made Jon turn around. There she stood in all her flame haired glory, looking every bit a Queen. She walked slowly towards him and Jon couldn’t help but notice the slight swell of her belly under the thick furry cloak.

“Your Grace.” Jon greeted as he bowed his head.

“My lords, I know that we’re here to discuss the fate of Jon Snow but as fate would have it, perhaps the gods have spoken and have decided to be kind to him,” Sansa addressed the hall as she stood facing them.  _That was his chair once,_  as Jon looked on wistfully.

“ I am with child.” 

The hall erupted with loud hushed chatter among the men and all Jon could see was Sansa standing and smiling at him. He looked around him to make sure he wasn’t in another dream.

“And it’s Jon’s. Now, you must know that I do not wish for this child to grow up to be a bastard like he did, so we will be wed in a fortnight. I will have him decreed as a true born Stark and House Stark will continue through both of us. That is my decision and it is final.”

Even louder chatter echoed within the walls of the Great Hall but Jon had them tuned out and watched as Sansa came closer to where he stood.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? To be a Stark? Now you are,” Sansa whispered to him, her scent undoubtedly struck Jon and he realised whom his dream lover was. Sansa smiled as she took his hand and placed it on the gentle swollen bump of her abdomen. Jon nodded and finally understood. Whatever Sansa had done to him, he forgave. But what Sansa had given him, there was nothing that he imagined could prepare him for it.

“Aye. And we the Starks, shall endure.”


End file.
